


Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours

by Stylinsonvodka



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anal Fingering, Artist Harry, Bottom Louis, Camboy Louis, Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, M/M, Masturbation, Pornstar Louis, Prompt Fill, Prostitute Zayn, Smut, Soldier Liam, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stylinsonvodka/pseuds/Stylinsonvodka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Harry is a somewhat sad, starving artist with a prostitute for a roommate and a bad habit of running into his favourite porn star everywhere he goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours

**Author's Note:**

> so hello!! another prompt fill for another tumblr anon! its a little shorter than i wanted it to be, so maybe ill continue it as like a series or something?? the painter and the pornstar??? idk let me know if youd read more of this?? anyway, hope you love it!!

Harry's life is not where he thought it'd be at twenty one. 

He had always planned that at this point in his life, so close to thirty, he'd have a reasonable flat and a successful career selling his paintings to aging wealthy people who would think that each stroke of the brush had more meaning behind it than it honestly did. He'd have money of his own to blow through, maybe vodka on tap, and a boyfriend to wear on his arm during his very own gallery openings and to maybe suck his cock on command. He'd planned most of adult life around having money, and sex, and booze, actually, and the shit hand that he'd been dealt instead had left him kind of shell shocked. 

Instead of money, and sex, and booze, he had a shit job at a shit coffee shop, and even shittier porn. He could only afford shit booze, and the only reason he could afford the shitty flat he lived in was the prostitute roommate he had found on Craigslist (his name's Zayn) (he's nice). He actually thinks he hates himself sometimes, for pursuing his art degree, and not believing the hundreds of people that warned him that it would get him nowhere. 

"At least today's payday," he mumbles to himself, as he wipes down the counter at the coffee shop after the last rude group of teenagers that had used it. It's sticky, and takes much more work than he's comfortable with to clean, and he hates every single one of them. (They didn't even tip.) (He had spit in their coffees.) 

He frowns to himself as he starts to work away at some suspicious dark stain on the linoleum (he can actually feel the effort in his arm and it makes him nauseous), when the bell rings again overhead and the entrance doors swing open. He looks up, as Zayn walks in, hips swinging in that weird way that they always do that he claims they don't. 

"You again," Harry greets, and Zayn laughs, hopping up to sit at the counter. He rests his arms against it, before quickly drawing them back, face drawn up in distaste. 

"Why is it sticky?" He asks, and Harry cracks a grin.

"Teenagers."

"Gross," Zayn says, and Harry laughs. "You need to put up a sign or something, tell them to keep out." 

"I'll get right on that," Harry agrees, finally giving up on the strange stain and dropping his rag on the counter. "Was there something you needed?" 

"Dinner," Zayn tells him, looking like he's gonna try and put his arms down again before deciding against it. "It's your night to buy, and I'm starving." 

Harry laughs. "Couldn't you just eat something at home?" 

"We have nothing at home," he pouts. 

"Oh, right," he nods. (Harry forgets that they're so poor sometimes.) (Maybe 'cause he daydreams so much about not being poor.) (He hates being poor.) "Think you can wait twenty minutes? I get off at six." 

"I'll get you off now if you buy me dinner," Zayn offers.

Harry rolls his eyes. "We both know I couldn't afford you." 

"That's true," he agrees, and pouts again, covering his stomach with his hands as he rises to his feet. "I'll wait for you, then, I guess. Are any of your tables not sticky?" 

"Try a booth in the back." 

Zayn nods, and saunters, hips swinging, to the back of the restaurant. Harry turns back to the stain as he walks, though he looks up quickly when the door chimes again, immediately assuming that Zayn had left to find some other way to get dinner (Harry loves him to death but he doubts Zayn's above blowing strangers for Thai food) (he loves Thai food) (Harry can't stand it). It's not Zayn, though, but Louis, who walks into the coffee shop on the arm of some very tall, very broad bloke dressed in what look to be army fatigues. (Harry first thinks /role playing/, but then he feels kinda bad.)

They walk up to the counter, Louis with a sneer, and Harry quirks a brow in greeting.

Louis rolls his eyes at him. "Harry." 

"Louis," Harry greets, and his voice is colder than he had meant for it to be. He never really means to be mean to Louis (doesn't really have the right, either) (he spends the majority of his free time watching Louis fuck himself on camera with large, sparkly dildos), but he just can't seem to be anything but outrageously cold to him whenever they talk. When they had first met, even, and Harry was trying to figure out why he recognized Louis, Louis had asked Harry if he had watched porn. It had clicked then (that Louis was PrettyTommo or whatever the fuck his name was on the live porn website Harry has a legitimate subscription to) (Harry watches a lot of porn), but instead of laughing in acknowledgement, or even embarrassingly admitting that he liked to watch Louis fuck himself, he had blurted, "God no. Disgusting industry.", and the two of them hadn't really gotten along at all since. (Which sucks, because Louis had moved into town, and Harry sees him /everywhere/.) (But he's also pretty, so that's a plus.) (Harry's mean to him but he still really wants to bend him over and fuck him senseless.) (And maybe marry him and have his babies.) (Mostly just fuck him, though.) He clears his throat. "What do you want?" 

Louis scoffs. "I don't know. Do you serve anything here that isn't shit?" 

"Not to you," he says bluntly, and turns to the bloke next to Louis. He's quite handsome, and Harry's chest twinges with a jealously he knows he has no right to feel but can't at all help. He quirks a brow. "Who are you?" 

"Liam," Liam replies, and raises his eyebrows. (He reminds Harry of a bear.) (It's a little frightening.) "Who are you?" 

"Harry," Harry says. "Did you just get off the boat from Afghanistan?" He asks, and while he means it as an honest question, it sounds snarky.

Liam only rolls his eyes. "I did, actually."

Harry nods, and when he can't think of anything smart to come back with, he looks back down to Louis. "I didn't know you had a soldier for a boyfriend." 

"He's not my boyfriend," Louis tells him. "Not like it's any business of yours, anyway." 

Harry nods, and thankfully, before gets to the opportunity to start looking too thankful (Louis' still single and not dating any hot soldiers and Harry can breathe again), Zayn slinks back up to the counter with another pout and a loud noise of protest. 

"Harry," he says sadly. "I'm still hungry." 

"It's been two minutes," Harry tells him passively, but Zayn shakes his head. 

"It's been more than two minutes, and my stomach is sad," Zayn states. "Feed me." 

"I have customers," Harry tells him, like he hadn't just being telling them both off. 

But Zayn only nods (which surprises Harry) (Zayn's a giant pain in the ass when he's hungry), and turns to look at Liam for a long, silent moment. "I'm Zayn," he says finally. 

Liam cracks a smile. (He's got a really nice smile and Harry's really glad he's not dating Louis.) (The lowly coffee shop worker could never compete with the soldier with the winning smile.) "Liam," he says. 

Zayn holds a hand out to Liam. Liam shakes it, and Harry almost laughs at how delicate Zayn's hand looks in comparison. "I was just about to grab dinner, Liam, if you'd care to join me," he offers, lips upturned, and Harry huffs. 

"Excuse me." 

"You missed your chance," Zayn tells him, not looking away from Liam, who nods and steps away from Louis. 

"I'll meet you back at home, okay?" Liam says, and ignores the small noise of protest Louis emits in favour of following Zayn from the coffee shop (Harry watches him watch Zayn's ass as they walk). 

He huffs again, and Louis crosses his arms. 

Harry's the first to speak. "It looks like your boyfriend left." 

"So did yours," Louis says indignantly, and Harry shrugs. 

"I'm used to it," he tells him. He doesn't tell him why. (That his roommate is a prostitute with a bad habit of attracting people literally anywhere he goes.)

Louis glances out the far window, next to the door, just in time to see Zayn and Liam disappear from view across the street. "He is cute," he says finally. He sounds bitter. 

Harry quirks a brow. "Who?" 

"Your boyfriend." 

"Zayn?" Harry says, and snorts. "Like I could ever get a boyfriend as cute as Zayn." 

Louis looks bemused. "Well, you aren't — you're kinda —" he hesitates. "Nevermind." 

"No," Harry says, leaning across the counter towards Louis with a small grin. "You were about to say something nice to me." 

"I was /not/," Louis tells him sharply. 

"Yeah, you were," Harry grins. "What was it?" 

"Nothing, you just —" He frowns. "You aren't ugly." 

Harry smiles wickedly. That was nearly a compliment from his favourite porn star who hadn't said anything nice to him since they had met a year ago. In his books, that was a victory. "I'm not?" 

"No," Louis says, and he blushes slightly, and looks frustrated about it. "Shut up." 

But Harry grins again. "Would you say that I'm cute?" He asks. "Sexy, even?" Louis blushes darker, and Harry feels strangely proud of himself as he leans closer across the counter. "Do you think about me when you get off for your webcam?" He asks, voice low, and Louis recoils so quickly he nearly trips over his feet. 

"You watch my show?" He asks loudly, and Harry shrugs again. "You said it was gross! You lied to a /porn star/ about watching /porn/!" 

Harry quirks a brow, and readies himself for some snarky lie about how he doesn't even watch porn, actually, when Louis leaps up so he's kneeling on the counter and presses his lips to Harry's. 

Harry wastes exactly no time before he kisses Louis back, obediently opening his mouth when Louis licks across the seam of his lips and sucking on the tip of his tongue when he licks into Harry's mouth. The kiss is sloppy and wet and incredibly sexy, and there's a thin trail of saliva connecting their mouths when Harry finally pulls back.

"I'm still on the clock," he murmurs, though he still quickly tilts his head back when Louis starts to kiss down his throat. "Think you can wait for me until I get off?" 

"No," Louis breathes, and pushes Harry back behind the counter, before jumping down in front of him and starting to pull off his own clothes. "Need to get off now." 

"That's the second /get off/ joke I've gotten today," Harry tells him randomly. (He's kinda struggling to think.) (He can still taste his favourite porn star on his lips.) 

Louis cracks a smile. "Harry, shut up and take your clothes off." 

Harry nods, and pulls his apron over his head before making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. His pants come off next, disappearing down his thighs with his boxers, and he steps out of his shoes before he steps up behind Louis, who's already naked and bent over the sticky counter. (He's beautiful.)

"We're still open," Harry murmurs reluctantly, as he watches Louis impatiently spread his legs. "Someone could walk in and see us." 

"I make a living off people seeing me like this," Louis scoffs, and he sounds awfully snarky for someone who's grinding slowly against the counter of an unpopular cafe. "I don't mind if you don't." 

It doesn't take Harry long to realize he doesn't. "I don't," he says.

Louis nods. "Then lets hurry the fuck up and get on with it." 

Harry nods, and quickly steps closer to Louis. He leans forward, making sure his cock brushes the seam of Louis' ass as he leans over him and holds his fingers to Louis' lips. 

Louis moans, as rocks back and sucks Harry's fingers into his mouth at the same moment. Harry groans softly, wishing he was watching as he feels Louis' tongue repeatedly circle his fingers. He finally pulls them out, only to hold them to his hole, and circles it a few times before pushing the first into Louis without warning. Louis makes a long, high sounds, before he quickly grinds back against Harry's finger, and Harry crooks it slightly, for the hell of it. Evidently, he finds the spot inside Louis he's looking for, and Louis gasps loudly and leans more heavily on the counter. 

Harry smirks. "You're just as needy as you make yourself out to be, aren't you?" He asks. (He's not sure where the random surges of confidence are coming from.) (Maybe from the fact that he's finally got a finger up the arse of his favourite porn star.) He slowly pulls his finger out, before pushing back in with a second, aiming again for Louis' prostate. He knows he's found it when Louis gasps again. Harry smirks. "You are." 

"Shut up," Louis breathes, even as he pushes back again. He folds his arms over the counter, and rests his head against them, and Harry watches as he mumbles, "More," into the skin of his forearm. 

Harry's quick to oblige. He pushes in with a third finger, feeling Louis' muscles twitch around him sporadically. (It's a reminder that he's got his fingers up the ass of his favourite porn star.) (He had a wet dream just like this once.) He slowly spreads his fingers, and watches Louis' arse as he does so, watching his hole stretch open around his fingers.

He groans softly. "You've no idea how long I've been waiting to do this," he murmurs, because if he's gonna do it, he's gonna do it right. He pulls his fingers out, before slowly pushing them back in, carefully avoiding Louis' prostate. "Used to watch you fuck yourself with your fingers, and pretend they were mine. But my fingers are much longer than yours, aren't they?" Louis doesn't answer, and Harry makes a small noise of scorn, before lightly bringing his free hand up to slap at Louis' arse.(Harry almost has to stop when he realizes he just spanked his favourite porn star.) "Aren't they?" 

"Yes, Harry, yes," Louis breathes, before breathing out a moan against his forearm. He pushes back again, and Harry finally crooks his fingers, carefully petting over Louis' prostate. Louis cries out, and he grins wickedly. 

"Loved watching you, Louis," Harry tells him, and stops the movement of his fingers, instead keeping them still and pressed firmly against his prostate. "Love the sounds you make when you come. Wanted to hear those sounds in person for so long, wanted to fuck you so bad." 

"Looks like now's your chance," Louis murmurs, voice high and airy. "So get on with it and get in me." 

Harry doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly pulls his fingers out, and spits in his palm a few times, before wrapping his wet hand around his own cock. He moans at the feeling, but Louis emits another impatient noise, and Harry wastes no more time before he quickly strokes and coats his cock. He takes care to cover the entire length of his cock (as confident as he can be he's still cautious), as he finally lines himself up with Louis' hole. 

"Ready?" He murmurs, and when Louis nods quickly, he grabs his hips, and starts to push into him. Louis moans again, high and broken, but Harry doesn't so much as hesitate. Louis' so tight and so sensitive and so much better than Harry expected, he has to force himself to pause once he finally bottoms out. He waits a moment, and gives Louis time to adjust, before Louis whines, "God, move," and Harry moves quickly. 

He slowly pulls back, before he quickly snaps his hips back against Louis', and Louis clenches around his cock and cries out. They keep going like that for a while, before Louis stops and shudders, and whimpers, "Oh, God, there," against his own skin. Harry groans, and angles his next thrust, and he knows he hit the right spot when all he receives in response is a whimper. Harry only needs to ride that spot a few times, before Louis starts to shudder, and reaches back to thread one of his hands though Harry's hair, and pull. 

"So close," he whispers. 

Harry nods. "Me too." 

He wraps an arm around Louis' stomach, and his thrusts quickly become sloppy and shallow, until Louis tightens around him without warning and comes all over the already sticky counter with a scream. Harry can't hold in a growl, at both the feeling and the noise, and only manages a few more curt thrusts before he comes, hips pressed flush against Louis' arse. 

Louis moans again, before he slumps against the counter completely, looking more spent than Harry's ever seen him (even in any of his videos). He smirks again, and presses a kiss to the back of his neck, pulling out just as Louis' phone beeps from the pile of clothes around them. 

"Check that for me?" Louis mumbles into his hand, and Harry nods. 

He rifles around for a moment, before he stands with Louis' phone, and quickly reports, "Liam's taking Zayn back to yours so don't come home tonight." 

"That dick," Louis scowls, standing up with a small look of betrayal. "Where the fuck am I supposed to stay tonight?" He looks lost for a moment, before he turns to Harry, and flashes him a hopeful smile. 

Harry laughs. "I'm sure we can figure something out," he says. (He means sex.)

**Author's Note:**

> oh prettiest please follow me [tumblr](http://stylinsonvodka.tumblr.com) it would mean very much to me a lot


End file.
